Victim of Fate
by hpenchantress
Summary: When Garcia forces Morgan and Prentiss to visit a fortune-teller with her, they each get fortunes that they never expected. Morgan's in particular is dark. After believing it to be a complete sham, they return to the BAU to work on a case. However, when Prentiss's and Garcia's fortunes come true, Morgan can't help but fear that his own will too.
1. Chapter 1

**Victim of Fate**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds_

Summary: When Garcia forces Morgan and Prentiss to visit a fortune-teller with her, they each get fortunes that they never expected. Morgan's in particular is dark. After believing it to be a complete sham, they return to the BAU to work on a case. However, when Prentiss's and Garcia's fortunes come true, Morgan can't help but fear that his own will too.

* * *

Chapter One

The fair was composed of a swirl of bright-colored cloths and people running amok. Clowns juggled about five balls at a time while standing next to men on ridiculously high stilts. Fire breathers launched glaring balls into the air, eliciting gasps and applause from the gathered crowd.

Morgan sighed and shook his head at the people, who stood excessively close to the knife-jugglers and tiger-tamers, not seeming to realize that if the slightest thing went wrong, they could be terribly injured. People tended to enjoy being close to dangerous situations, as Morgan had learned only too well during his career at the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

For several years, Morgan had worked in that particular department of the FBI, and his understanding of the human mind was challenged with each new case presented. Luckily, the dark-skinned man had his coworkers to assist him in solving the cases, as well as helping him recover after particularly difficult ones.

That was the reason he was in his current location. He'd returned with his team from Springfield with dark circles under his eyes and a haunted gleam in his irises. Garcia, one of his dearest friends, had noticed this and had tried to convince the entire team to go to the fair with her. Unfortunately ('_or, rather, fortunately,_' Morgan thought) only he and Prentiss had been able to accompany the technology expert to a scene completely different from their usual one.

Garcia was enjoying herself, however. She walked through the multi-colored tents, occasionally applauding at something she found impressive and inspecting the trinkets and food offered at every stall. Morgan and Prentiss exchanged an amused look as Garcia paused once more, this time before a sign that proclaimed the arrival of a fortune-teller, a Madame Zelda.

Garcia gasped, her brightly colored nails covering her mouth as excitement overcame her. "We have to visit the fortune-teller," she proclaimed, leaving no room for discussion as she grasped both of her coworkers' hands, despite their protests, and pulled them along. She was practically skipping in her enthusiasm to learn about her future.

Morgan wasn't particularly reluctant to visit the seeing woman. In his life, he'd come to realize that people like that weren't particularly harmful, but tended to cheat ignorant tourists out of several dollars. Garcia ignored the obvious truth in preference of believing something that was unreal. Yet, because of what they had just suffered through on the last case, Morgan allowed himself to be pulled along by the tech goddess's surprisingly strong grip. ('_Must be all the typing she does,_' Morgan assumed as he felt Garcia's fingers wrapped around his own)

The blond woman seemed to have an instinct of where to go as she expertly weaved through the nearly identical tents, heading towards the woman who would attempt to reveal their futures. Because of Garcia's leadership, it only took a few minutes before the trio was standing in front of a tent with an even bigger sign. 'Madame Zelda sees ALL!' the sparkly poster proclaimed. Under the words, a large painted eye was displayed, seeming to stare out at passerby. Morgan shivered. He didn't know why, but something about the setting made him uncomfortable.

Garcia and Prentiss didn't notice as they inspected the darkened tent, one with more interest than the other. "Do we knock or something?" the shorter woman asked, trying to find a way to alert the Seer inside of their presence. Prentiss shrugged and raised her hand to tap the cloth covering the entrance to the room.

Before the dark-haired woman's fist touched the tent, a royal voice called out from inside, "You may enter, Emily Prentiss!" Prentiss took a step back, her face twisted into an expression of shock. Garcia squealed gleefully, receiving her proof that this woman was not a fraud. Prentiss stood frozen at her spot for a minute, before the voice from inside spoke again. "I am waiting," it said, and Garcia pushed Prentiss forward excitedly.

"Go on! I'm sure she won't bite!" Garcia insisted. Prentiss sent Morgan a desperate look, which he was only able to return with a helpless shake of his head. No way was he going against his baby-girl. Prentiss frowned at Morgan before she ducked under the cloth and went inside.

Morgan and Garcia stood outside in completely different stances, projecting different emotions. Garcia was still looking around, wondering at everything going around her. She occasionally uttered little exclamations of delight, but otherwise, she remained silent. Morgan paced in front of the tent, glancing at his watch, sighing as Prentiss remained inside the tent, from which no sounds could be heard.

Finally, the cloths of the tent quivered, and were pushed outwards as the dark-haired woman emerged, a peculiar look on her face. Garcia pounced on her instantly. "What did she say? Tell me everything!" she demanded of her friend.

Prentiss opened her mouth to answer when the voice from inside the tent sounded once more. "Penelope Garcia, it is your turn now." The trio turned to look at the tent, surprised.

"Did you tell the fortune-teller Garcia's name?" Morgan asked Prentiss, who shook her head. Garcia paid no attention to the communication taking place between her coworkers, and she hurried into the tent, eager to find out what the Seer inside would tell her. Her friends watched her go, Morgan rolling his eyes slightly. "So what did she tell you?" he inquired, not actually curious but willing to pass the time by discussing the other woman's future.

Prentiss grimaced slightly. "Besides her guessing our names, somehow, the woman's a total fraud. She said that I would receive a marriage proposal sometime soon." She snorted. "As if! I'm not even dating anyone at the moment!"

Morgan grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at the dark-haired woman. "Oh, really, Prentiss? I wouldn't have taken you as the type to have problems finding men."

Prentiss slapped him playfully. "I don't have trouble with men; I just spend way too much time at my job."

Morgan sighed, reminded of the case they'd just been through. "Yeah, we all do."

Prentiss nodded, remembering the murders herself, and they lapsed into quiet, only disturbed by the far-off laughter of children as they viewed the many astounding exploits offered by the people working at the fair. The sounds of the incessant chatter and chaos of the location seemed to fade away as the couple lapsed into the darkness of their thoughts; the memories that had been hidden were forcing their way to the surface now that their bubbly friend was gone.

Both Morgan and Prentiss jumped as Garcia exited the tent, seeming slightly confused but very excited. "She said that I'll be receiving a surprise on a very special day!" she exclaimed, without waiting for either of her coworkers to ask about what she'd been told. "I'm not really sure what she meant, but she seemed to really see into my future, you know? It was amazing!" She grabbed at Morgan's hand and forced him nearer to the tent. "And now it's your turn!"

Morgan's face was set into an expression of reluctance as he walked into the tent, not even waiting for his name to be called. Inside, it was dark and smelled of incense. Morgan took a deep breath and resisted the urge to cough as the smoky odor tickled his throat. "Derek Morgan, please sit," a voice sounded from the center of the room. It took a moment for Morgan's eyes to adjust, and he squinted into the darkness. There was a table strewn with cards. A shadow was sitting at the table, and, as everything became clearer, Morgan could see it was a gypsy woman. She had coins braided into her hair, and her clothes were silky and dark green, covered with strange symbols. She was beckoning to Morgan, and the man found himself advancing and then sitting across from the woman, looking down at the table.

A deck of cards was by the side, and Morgan looked at them expectantly, thinking that the fortune-teller would use them to predict his future. The shadowy woman shook her head. "No, I don't need those. The cards are only to fool silly tourists. For you, I have the real future." Morgan frowned in confusion, his brows wrinkled as he gazed at the woman sitting in front of him. He didn't understand why she was telling him that she used a farce to fool people, and was surprised as she practically lunged and grabbed at his hand. She stared down at his palm, tracing some of the lines on his skin, before looking up into his eyes.

"You have been through many dark times, Derek," she intoned, gazing into his dark eyes. Morgan felt more than a little uncomfortable as her green eyes seemed to search his very soul. Not only did she know his name, but she'd somehow managed to allude to the many cases that had affected him over the years. He shifted, trying to pull his hand away from the woman, but her grip was even stronger than Garcia's. "But, you still seem untainted, helped by your friends. Oh!" A small exclamation of shock filled the woman's face, and her expression suddenly changed. Her eyes became blank, and she seemed to stare past Morgan and into the blackness of the tent. Her voice sounded much deeper as she pronounced the next words, "Derek Morgan, within the next week you will lose somebody close to you. Say your goodbyes while you still can, for they will be gone forever, you will never see them again."

Morgan rose, pulling his hand from the woman's grasp. He took a step back, slightly frightened by the suddenness of the woman's actions. Quickly, he pulled out his wallet and dropped five dollars on the floor before hurrying outside, where the two women were waiting for him.

Garcia smiled at him excitedly. "So, what did she say?" she asked, and Morgan schooled his features into a grin. He couldn't tell either of his friends what the fortune-teller had said. He knew it was false, obviously. That sort of thing didn't exist, people couldn't tell the future. But, despite that, he didn't think it would be a good idea to tell Garcia about what the woman had seen, he didn't want to worry her, not after what they'd seen at Springfield.

"She said something about me winning the lottery or something. 'Sudden windfall'," he said, making airquotes with his fingers. At Garcia's frustrated look, he shrugged. "I'm serious! I'm gonna win the lottery one of these days!"

Garcia looked away from him, linking arms with Prentiss, before beginning to walk away. "Well, I can't wait until that special someone proposes, Emily," she said, giggling about Prentiss's fortune. "But how can you not know who it is?"

Prentiss protested about the fortune being totally false as Morgan walked behind the pair. He looked around, suddenly seeing the fair in a whole new light. What had seemed like such childish fun just a short while ago seemed so much darker now. The acrobats, clowns, and tamers seemed to have a more desperate, morbid look on their faces as they tried hard to please the enthusiastic crowds. Morgan seemed able to see how vulnerable the people watching were, how easily they could be killed by a simple mistake.

Morgan shook his head, trying to rid himself of those thoughts. '_It's not real, people can't really tell the future. She was just saying that to creep me out,_' he convinced himself. Despite his reassurances, he was slightly worried and he found himself thinking about who he might lose as he got into his car and drove home. Garcia and Prentiss had gone their separate ways, both eager to recover from the horrors of their last case. Morgan was hopeful to do that too, and, once he was home and turned on some stupid show on the television, the memories of it and what the fortune-teller had said slowly began to fade into the dark recesses of his mind.

* * *

(A/N) Hello everybody! This is my first Criminal Minds fanfic on the site, and I hope you guys enjoy it. I will be updating this fic every Saturday until it's done, so if you're interested at all keep an eye out for it on the weekends. Hopefully you guys will like it. I had a lot of fun writing it and planning it out. Please, if you do like it, leave me a review or something. I really appreciate those! Anyway, see you next week, and have a fantastic holiday season!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

It was early in the morning, and inside the FBI offices, people were milling about getting ready to start their days. Most had coffees in their hands and shadows under their eyes. These men and women had dealt with so much more than regular people did, seeing true horrors in their line of work. Yet they worked on, keeping the streets and cities of their country safe, making sure that every day more citizens could live without fear.

Morgan was in his little cubicle, leaning dangerously far back on his chair as he looked over to the antics of his friends of the BAU. Prentiss, still looking slightly flustered from yesterday's visit to the fortune teller was joking around with Garcia, who insisted on finding out every detail of the dark haired woman's nonexistent love life. Nearby was Spencer Reid, the genius's face buried in a book as usual. Not for the first time, Morgan wondered how it was that he could read the book so quickly, as the young man flipped the pages of his book, his eyes scrolling down the words at an impressive rate.

Morgan grabbed a paper on his desk, a note reminding him of filling out some report on a previous case or another. He crumpled it into a ball and with an expert toss aimed it straight at the long-haired young man, immersed in his book. The paper ball hit him square on the head, and Reid's face darted up, surprised. He saw Morgan, waved slightly, and then returned to the world in his book.

Brusquely, a blond-haired woman walked into the room. Jennifer Jareau, better known as JJ, the team's Media Liaison. She looked over at her lounging coworkers and cleared her throat. "We have a case," she said, leading the way to the conference room where every potential case was presented. Morgan rose out of his seat and headed after her, nudging Reid's shoulder as he did so. He grinned at the playful slap he got in return. Teasing the Boy Genius was very entertaining to the dark-skinned man, and he kept at it relentlessly. Reid didn't mind, he was used to it by now.

Morgan entered the conference room, inside which Hotch and Rossi were already seated. Rossi seemed tired, probably from the early hour in the morning, but he was as prepared as he usually was. He'd practically founded that area of the FBI, and had returned to the team after having taken a few years off. The team's leader, Aaron Hotchner, was looking over the files with the usual stoic look. It was rare to see any sort of expression on the man's face, but despite his apparent sternness, everyone knew he cared about the members of his team more than anybody.

And well he should. The BAU team had been on so many cases and had seen so many horrors together, they had become more than coworkers and developed into a sort of family. There were rarely any secrets between them, and their interactions had become more and more personal up to the point where they understood each other completely. It was a skill that helped them in the long run, since their ideas and plans moved much more smoothly when they almost seemed to be reading each other's minds.

As Morgan sat down next to Hotch, Prentiss, Garcia, and Reid filed in. They each found a seat for themselves as JJ stood in front of them, pressing a button on a remote to begin her presentation. The picture of a blond man's body lying face-down in a dumpster appeared. Garcia instinctively looked away as JJ began to speak.

"Two weeks ago, in Cincinnati, Kentucky, the body of George Murtzloft was found. He'd been shot twice, once in the lower abdomen and the other in the chest. His wallet was found next to him, the only thing missing was his ID." JJ pressed another button, and the another picture of a dead body appeared on the screen. "A week later, Abraham Walker, shot through the chest. His wallet had been searched too, only the ID taken. Three days ago, Kyle Travis showed up dead in the streets," another picture appeared on the screen. JJ opened her mouth to finish her sentence when she was interrupted.

"-shot through the chest," Morgan murmured, looking through the file on the table. It contained the pictures of the three men, as well as some important aspects of their lives. All these facts would help the team to compose a profile that would ultimately assist in the capture of the Unsub, the person committing these horrific crimes.

JJ nodded, "And his ID was taken, same as the other victims." She stood there for a moment, before illustrating further. "The city's police have requested our help, since there are no apparent hints to suggest why these men are being targeted, and who is trying to kill them. They think we might be able to give them a good profile."

Hotch nodded, and read through one of the pages. "His resting period is shortening relatively quickly," he commented, "It probably won't be long before he strikes again. It's probably best we get there as soon as we can. If he goes on at this rate, he'll probably kill somebody else before the day is out." Hotch stood up, the file in his hand. "Wheels up in thirty," he said, and the team quickly dispersed to find their bags and head to the jet which would take them to wherever each new case was.

-)-(-

Morgan looked through the files along with the rest of his team. They were currently on the jet on their way to Cincinnati. Morgan had to resist the urge to lean back and close his eyes tiredly as they flew, and he noticed that he wasn't the only one. Their last case had been draining to the point of near exhaustion, both physically and mentally. Luckily they'd found those missing children in the end.

"It seems that his first victim was more sudden; that the unsub wasn't actually planning on shooting this man," Rossi was saying as he analyzed the pictures of the victims before him. "George Murtzloft was shot in two places, for one, and he doesn't seem to share as many similarities with the other victims as the others do." He held both pictures up together. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were almost brothers."

Morgan squinted and looked into the faces of the now-dead blond men on the papers before him. Rossi was right: the resemblance between them was almost scary. It was nothing new, though. Most killers chose people who were similar to each other, and it was always for a supposedly legitimate reason. Morgan understood the thought process behind each killer's choice of victim, but it never ceased to frighten him how people could so callously pick and choose whom to kill and whom not to.

"I don't think he goes after them just based on their looks," Reid interjected from his seated position. "If you look at their lives and finances, they're similar as well. All three of them were married and held relatively well-paying middle class jobs. All three of them lived in the suburbs, somewhat close to each other, and they might even have met." Reid paused for a moment to confirm a fact he'd noticed before voicing it. "The only aspect which is different among them is the fact that George Murtzloft had no children, while Abraham Walker and Kyle Travis each had two."

"That helps to confirm Rossi's theory about the unsub not being prepared to murder the first man," Prentiss suggested, setting a small cup of coffee down on the table in front of her. "If he hadn't planned to kill Murtzloft, he wouldn't have been able to make sure that the man fit all of his criteria exactly, like the others did."

"Well, that has got to narrow some the list of potential victims down," JJ said, sarcastically. Morgan smiled at her. He knew that they were all rather sensitive after what had happened recently, and he was just as eager as everyone else to make sure that another dead body wouldn't be found in the dumpster the next morning.

"Actually, judging by Cincinatti's population," Reid began, his voice speeding up as it usually did when talking about statistics, "the amount of married blond men with two children is remarkably high, reaching up to almost-"

"Kid," Morgan interrupted. "JJ was just being sarcastic." The whole team smiled as Reid blushed, realizing that he'd thought someone was being serious yet again. Despite being a genius, Reid was sometimes clueless and naïve, which had earned him several smiles and had caused him to embarrass himself on multiple occasions. Nobody minded, though. He was part of their team, and they all knew he only meant to help.

"You know," Rossi stated, mercifully steering the conversation away from Reid, who was still slightly red in the face, "looking at the way that he disposes of the bodies, one could say that he doesn't want to look at them anymore. They're all lying face-down in the trash. He doesn't feel any remorse for his actions." He held up a picture for them to see. "He seems not to care about what he's doing to them, but he shoots them only once in the chest, which isn't personal at all." It was a confusing statement for the team, as they were used to most killers using ways to become as personal as they could with their victims. "He's not even angry at them, otherwise he would have shot them more times. It's as if, once they're dead, he's satisfied."

"He's cold," Morgan suggested. "He might be suffering from some sort of detachedness, or something. Angry one moment, not quite there the next." Morgan noticed a few nods from the rest of the team. "We could be dealing with a sociopath here." From the corner of his eye, he noticed JJ shudder slightly, remembering the last sociopath they'd dealt with. Obviously it was going to take some time to get over what they'd seen.

"We're going to have to hit the ground running on this case," Hotch said seriously, as usual. "Reid, I'm going to need you to start a geographical profile. Find out where all three of the victims might have been, and how this unsub is finding them." Reid nodded, and Hotch turned to JJ, Prentiss, and Morgan. "JJ, start preparing a statement for the press, let them know about the murders, but don't tell them about what we think this man is doing just yet. Prentiss, Morgan, I'm going to need you to go to the first couple of crime scenes and check if the unsub left any traces behind." Turning to Rossi, he then finished, "You and I will head to the last crime scene, before going back to the station and starting on a preliminary profile." Rossi looked more than prepared for his job, despite how tired he'd looked that morning. "Meanwhile, we still have about an hour. I suggest all of you get some sleep."

Morgan stood up and moved to another part of the plane, pulling out his music player and putting his headphones on. He started playing his music as he sat down. He watched the rest of his team get comfortable while he settled into his place, getting into a comfortable position. He was actually quite tired, but he resisted sleep for a few more moments while he watched what his team was doing. Reid, instead of sleeping, had pulled out his book from before and was avidly reading it again. JJ and Prentiss were seated together, talking quietly. Hotch was getting himself a cup of coffee, and Rossi was still looking over the file. Each member of his team had small bags under their eyes, and Morgan knew that they still hadn't recovered. He had to be thankful, though, that this case seemed relatively simple. It would allow them a bit of a rest before taking on a more strenuous one. As he drifted off to sleep, Morgan hoped that the murderer would be caught quickly, and they would be able to get some well-deserved rest.

* * *

(A/N) More of a filler chapter this time. Sorry you guys! But, it was necessary. I promise the fortune-teller's prediction will come into play really soon! But for now, the team is on a case and eager to catch this guy before anything else happens. What do you guys think will happen? I'm curious!

Thanks to everyone who added this to their Faves or Alerts. I was surprised and excited! Also, special thanks to my lovely reviewers: dannyanne, jenny crum, and Rebecca1. You guys rock! Anyway, if you have any other comments, want to say anything at all, I suggest leaving a review! Reviews totally make my day, they make me happy when skies are grey... etc... See you next week! Happy New Year! May the next year bring much joy to you and a lot of other stuff! Bye! See you next year!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

_Morgan was standing in the darkness, his eyes unable to see anything. He waved his hand in front of his face, and he couldn't even notice the shape that it must have made, despite the lack of light. There was nothing around him; it almost seemed as if he was floating. He couldn't feel the floor beneath the soles of his shoes, or any walls surrounding him. It was all black, all around, and not only could Morgan not see his surroundings, but he couldn't feel them either._

_Panicking, Morgan thrashed in the darkness, trying to find a way to escape. He couldn't, there wasn't anything he could hold on to, anything he could push off of to hightail it out of there. He couldn't escape. The darkness was impenetrable by any kind of light, by any smell, taste, feel, sound. Morgan felt as if his senses had all shut down. Soon, he began to wonder whether his body was actually there, or whether he had become a disembodied spirit that floated around in the black. Did he have eyes? Hands? Was that why he couldn't feel anything?_

_Suddenly, a familiar voice began to speak. "…dark times…" the voice intoned, the feminine lilts causing Morgan to gasp as he recognized who was speaking. He turned around, seeking where it was coming from. It was useless. Not only was the dark still pressing, but the sound seemed to be magnified, coming from all directions at once. It was maddening. "You've been through dark times, Derek," the voice repeated. Morgan struggled to shield his ears from the unyielding voice, to close his eyes to the dark. It was useless. The sounds vibrated through him, forcing him to listen to what he didn't want to hear. "You will lose somebody close to you… you will never see them again." Morgan screamed in the dark, but it made no difference. His throat had ceased to exist, and he couldn't make a sound. "Say your goodbyes while you still can… you will never see them again." A flash of light suddenly illuminated the space, and Morgan saw the fortune teller from the fair sitting in front of him, sitting. She grinned, a maniacal smile on her face. "Goodbye, Derek Morgan," she said, laughing. Morgan felt something underneath him give way, and he screamed as he tumbled back into the blackness._

Morgan jerked awake as the wheels of the plane made contact with the ground. He gasped at the rough sensation, the plane almost bouncing until it settled down and began to stop. His hands were grasping the armrests, his nails digging into the leather. With a sigh as the plane finally stopped, he released his death-grip and raised his hands to look at them. They seemed fine. Morgan flexed them quickly, marveling at the sensation of being able to move. He noticed Rossi looking at him with a quizzical look on his face, and he abruptly stopped.

"Are you ok, Morgan?" Rossi asked quietly, knowing that the young profiler would probably not appreciate the whole team hearing about his dream. He knew what it was like to get over a difficult case, and he'd seen in Morgan's eyes the way that the last situation had affected him. It had affected them all, and Rossi knew that it would take time to heal. He just wanted to let the younger member of his team know that he had support in case he needed it.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Morgan answered, his voice hoarse as if he'd been screaming. He grabbed a bottle of water from nearby and unscrewed the cap. He took a gulp of the cool liquid, swirling it around his mouth before finally swallowing. He spoke again, his voice sounding clearer. "Just had a weird dream."

Rossi smiled as he unbuckled his seat belt. "All right," he said, noticing that the profiler would probably not say anything else. He stood up and reached for his bag. Now that the plane had stopped, it was time to go and catch a killer.

Morgan noticed that his whole team was collecting their belongings, and he followed suit. Pulling his headphones off, and wondering how he hadn't heard the music in his dream, he unceremoniously stuffed them into his bag, along with the music player. He tucked his cellphone into his pocket and stuck his water bottle under his arm as he pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder. Then, he followed the other members of his team off the plane.

A man was waiting for them outside. Morgan watched him with a critical eye. The man seemed to be in his late forties. His hair, which used to have been dark, was now liberally sprinkled with gray and white strands. A neat beard hung from his chin, and dark bags were under his eyes. He wore a crisp police uniform, ironed and free of any sort of wrinkles. A badge on his chest declared him the Chief of Police.

He was talking to Hotch, looking serious. Morgan walked over to them. As he left the plane, the sounds from the discussion became clearer, and he caught the last few words. "-he's in the hospital, and he's stable for now. I wouldn't have thought him to have been shot by the same guy, except that he was shot in the same place," the man was saying gruffly.

Hotch nodded, before turning and seeing that his whole team was standing behind him. "Chief Forster, these are agents Prentiss, Rossi, Morgan, and Dr. Spencer Reid. And I believe you know Agent Jareau," he said, indicating the people around him. They each nodded, or, in Reid's case, raised hands, as their name was mentioned, letting the man know who everyone was.

Chief Forster grinned at them before saying, "Sorry about calling you over here on such short notice, but I didn't know what else to do. This guy is killing so many people so quickly, and I want him to get caught before anybody else gets hurt."

Rossi shook the man's hand, saying, "We'll do our best to get him." It was true. The team had a record of catching most of the killers they searched for. Their method of judging behaviors managed to quickly discard suspects, and come up with the right one, which they would then pursue. In cases of resistance, they knew what to do to bring the man down, or get him to follow quietly along. Their record was amazing, and few people could match their level of skill. It was an effective machine, and they were all extremely dedicated. No killer would escape their grasp.

"I'm glad," Chief Forster said. He turned to the rest of the team. "I was just telling Agent Hotchner that we found one of this son of a bitch's victims, alive. He'd been dumped in the trash, shot like the others, but he managed to survive. We don't know how he did it, but he's in the hospital now. The doctors say that he's stable enough for an interview."

Morgan raised his eyebrows in surprise. It was rare to find a victim who had survived after the unsub was done with them. Most of the time, all they found were bodies, discarded wherever the sick person had decided to leave them. Having a survivor was a welcome change.

"Morgan and Prentiss," Hotch said, "go to the hospital and meet with Mr. André Miller there. Rossi and I will go look at the crime scenes. We'll meet up in the station." Morgan nodded and looked over at Prentiss, who was already walking in his direction, looking very ready for the task that they'd been assigned.

Quickly, the whole team disbanded, each going their separate ways. Morgan and Prentiss climbed into the black car that had been lent to them, Morgan in the driver's seat. He stuck the keys in the ignition and smiled as the engine purred. It was a nice car, and Morgan, guy that he was, appreciated the way that it responded to his touch.

Prentiss rolled her eyes at Morgan's obsession with cars, and he inwardly chuckled as he carefully drove the car onto the freeway. Despite the many precautions that he'd been given about driving and talking on the phone at the same time, Morgan pulled out his cellphone and pressed a button. In only a few seconds, he had a reply.

"Goddess of all that is good and technology speaking. How can I make you happy today?" Garcia's bubbly voice said over the phone, her tone making both people in the car smile.

"Hey, Garcia," Prentiss answered, used to the tech expert's enthusiastic and strange greetings, "we just heard about a potential victim of the unsub surviving, a Mr. André Miller. We need to know more about him. And could you let the local hospital know that we're on our way and that we need to speak to the patient in private? We also need a full statement of his injuries. We have to know if it's the same MO."

"I could do that with my eyes shut and both hands tied behind my back!" Garcia stated. "Really, I was hoping to be challenged." Both profilers heard the woman's long fingernails tapping against the letters on her keyboard as she effortlessly did what they'd asked of her. "André Miller, I have a picture of his driver's license right here. He looks just like your other victims, blond and gorgeous. Poor guy," Garcia paused, the familiar sound of keys covering up the silence. "Just looked at his family history and everything. Turns out he's married and has two kids, but it looks like he's getting divorced soon. He also lives near where the other guys lived. I'd be willing to bet my left pink shoe that the baddie we're looking for got to him. He's lucky he survived." All of this was said in the rapid-fire way that the woman always answered questions for them.

"Well, that's what we're going to check out," Morgan said, "but, from what you've said, it looks like he fits the description of the other victims. Let's just hope that he has something that we can use to catch this guy."

"If he was shot in the front like the other victims, he probably saw something," Prentiss added. "It's hard not to notice someone who is shooting you, especially if the person is confident enough to leave you for dead after a single shot."

Morgan nodded, and he listened to Garcia over the phone. "Well, the hospital is notified. You'll find Mr. Miller on the fourth floor, room 416. And, if that's all you need from me, over and-" Garcia's voice suddenly shrieked. In his shock, Morgan pulled the steering wheel to one side, narrowly avoiding a car that was driving next to him.

While her partner cursed, Prentiss picked up the phone. "Garcia, are you alright?" she demanded, her voice rising a pitch in her worry.

"Yes, yes, don't worry, it's just Kevin." The tech goddess's voice was breathless, from either shock or excitement, the pair couldn't tell. "K-Kevin," she stuttered, still not quite recovered from the scare, "you surprised me." Morgan laughed, hearing the pout in Garcia's tone. He knew she didn't appreciate being scared, and she was probably turning a pair of big accusing eyes at her boyfriend right now.

"Well, that was the point," a man spoke over the phone. Although Morgan wasn't as familiar with Kevin as Garcia was, he was able to tell that he was grinning. He wondered what was so special, and hoped that the geeky couple would remember to hang up the phone before they started to do anything.

"Why? Why would you try to scare me like that?" Garcia whined, and Morgan and Prentiss turned to look at each other, a grin on their lips.

"Because it's our anniversary, and I brought you a special something," Kevin declared. Garcia began giggling hysterically, probably hopping up and down in excitement while Kevin brought out whatever he had gotten her. Morgan shook his head, a smile on his face, before turning back to the road. His heart was starting to slow down, and he was recovering from the scare.

"This is our special day!" Kevin said once more, and with a small gasp, Morgan suddenly flashed back to a few days ago, when he, Garcia, and Prentiss had been at the fair. _'She said that I'll be receiving a surprise on a very special day,' Garcia had said, 'she really seemed to see my future!'_

Morgan glanced over at Prentiss, who seemed unaware of what was going on. In fact, she'd just hung up the phone after congratulating the happy couple. "Morgan? What's wrong?" she asked, noticing him looking at her.

"Nothing," Morgan said, forcing a grin to his face as his own fortune rose to the front of his mind. "I'm just happy for them."

Prentiss nodded, accepting his explanation. She then began discussing the case they were working on. Morgan listened half-heartedly. It couldn't really be happening, could it?

* * *

(A/N) Well could it? Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. It was the first time I ever wrote a dream sequence, and even though it was a nightmare, I had a lot of fun with it. So what did you guys think of this chapter? So far, it looks like Garcia's fortune had come true. How about Prentiss's and Morgan's? Any ideas as to what will happen?

As usual, thanks to all the wonderful people who added this to their Faves and Alerts. I was surprised to see such a reaction from my first Criminal Minds story! And super special thanks to the extra wonderful people who reviewed: , Rebecca1, Guest (dunno who you are, but thanks for the great advice!), dannyanne, TheMysteriousGeek2345, and jenny crum. You guys are so great I don't even know where to begin!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! If you do (or don't) feel free to leave me a comment in the little box below! Oh, and next week's chapter may be posted a little late since I will be traveling. I'll do my best to post it on Saturday, though! See ya! Happy 2013, btw!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The rest of the ride to the hospital was relatively quiet, especially after Garcia's enthusiastic conversation and her later excited screams. Neither Morgan nor Prentiss discussed anything else than the case, and after that subject was exhausted, they lapsed into a silence in which each of them retreated into their own thoughts.

Morgan didn't know how Prentiss seemed to have completely forgotten their trip to the fair only a few days ago. The moment when the fortune teller had predicted his future stood out so much from his other memories that he couldn't believe that neither Prentiss nor Garcia seemed interested in what had happened. He reasoned that they must have forgotten because, in Garcia's case, she wasn't the kind of person to keep thinking about something for long; and in Prentiss's case, she'd never believed what the all-seeing woman had told her. Morgan hadn't believed it either, or at least, had tried not to. Still, after examining his dream from a profiler's perspective, the dark-skinned man had to admit that there was probably a part of himself that was not willing to accept the fortune-teller's words as pure fiction, and he was genuinely worried about the people he knew. It was still a ridiculous idea, that somebody could see the future. Morgan knew that occasionally, police stations employed psychics to help them solve some of their cases, but he'd always thought of them as charlatans. It just wasn't possible for somebody to tell the future, or see what happened in the past unless they'd actually been present. All of the laws of nature and common sense were against it. And yet, there was this persistent thought that assailed Morgan's mind, telling him that maybe he should find out who the fortune-teller was referring to, and do something about it.

As he thought, Morgan finally arrived at the hospital, driving neatly into a parking space near the entrance. In the few seconds it took him to switch off the engine and pull the key out of the ignition, Prentiss had already unbuckled her seatbelt and left the car. Morgan scrambled to gather all of his belongings before hurrying after his partner, who was impatiently waiting for him so they could enter the massive white building.

Soon, the pair was walking through the glass sliding doors and up to the receptionist's table. What seemed like an army of nurses was manning the desk, and they worked efficiently, like a well-oiled machine. Several of them were on varying phones, others were making notes on charts, and yet others were wandering around and talking to some of the patients who were not-so-patiently waiting. Morgan quickly spotted an attractive dark-haired nurse, fresh out of school, who seemed to not be quite as busy as the others. Stepping up to her, he said, "Hello. We're agents Morgan and Prentiss with the FBI, I believe we have a meeting with a Mr. André Miller, a gunshot patient." While he spoke, he showed the young flustered woman his badge. "Our technical analyst called ahead," he prodded. "We need to talk to Mr. Miller about information relative to the case."

The nurse nodded, rather taken aback by the man's commandeering attitude and the fact that he was a government agent. "Ok, let me check his status," she answered, trying to sound as official as Morgan and failing. Instead, she ended up sounding as if she was performing a too-much rehearsed part for a play. She logged onto the computer, fumbling a bit with the keys. She looked helplessly around, realizing that she did not quite know how to access patient records. A male nurse noticed her, and he sighed before elbowing her out of the way.

"I'm Nurse Grobe, can I help you with something?" The nurse eyed the badges and his eyes widened slightly as he realized who was here. Morgan and Prentiss had to say no more as he understood, and quickly pulled up the information relevant to the patient they needed. "Oh, yes. We were told to expect you agents earlier today. Mr. Miller is recovering in a private room right now. We had to perform surgery to extract the bullet from his chest, which had lodged next to his lungs. You can talk to him now, but he might be a little out of it. He's on a morphine drip to control the pain." The man turned to look back up at the agents. "I would suggest you talk to him carefully. He's still in shock from the events."

Prentiss nodded slightly. "Will do. I promise we'll be brief," she replied shortly. She wasn't a woman who would spend too much time being pleasant to others. At the moment, she was very direct and to the point. "Fourth floor, is it?" she said out of politeness, choosing not to divulge the information that Garcia had so helpfully given them.

"Room 416," Nurse Grobe answered, turning away from the agents and looking at the young nurse whose newbie status was still very apparent.

The agents stepped away from the desk and hurried over to the elevator, where the doors were just about to shut. Morgan stuck his hand out and managed to keep the automatic doors from shutting, before he and Prentiss stepped inside. As soon as they'd punched the fourth button, which lit up yellow, and the doors had closed, Prentiss allowed herself a grin. "You sure know how to pick them, Morgan," she said, and unvoiced laugh apparent.

Morgan scowled good-humoredly, and replied, "She was pretty, though. And that male nurse who helped us wasn't that bad looking either." He wiggled his eyebrows at Prentiss, who, noticing, laughed and shoved him away.

"Yeah, right. As if I would ever be interested in him!" the woman replied. Nurse Grobe had been attractive, but he wasn't quite what Prentiss looked for in a man. Not to mention they lived in two completely different states.

Morgan was about to shoot back a reply when the elevator dinged. The doors opened soundlessly and the pair walked out onto marble floors. They looked around, seeing several rooms with numbers posted on the walls outside. They hurried down the hallways, ignoring several doctors and patients who were milling around, going about their own business.

The agents soon arrived at Room 416. Prentiss knocked briefly before stepping inside, followed by her partner. A pale man was lying in the bed. His light blond hair fanned out on the pillow where his head was laying. His hospital gown did little to cover the many bandages that surrounded his chest, and he was connected to a few machines that kept a steady beeping noise going. Morgan saw the IV drip that was inserted into his arm, and he hoped that Mr. Miller wouldn't be too doped up to answer any of the questions that the pair would ask him.

"Mr. Miller, I'm Agent Prentiss and this is Agent Morgan. We're with the FBI," the woman said, pointing out herself and her partner. "We'd like to ask you a few questions regarding your arrival to the hospital." Prentiss was careful not to mention the man's gunshot wound, as they'd been told that he was still in shock.

Mr. Miller didn't react other than to look at them tiredly as they introduced themselves. Then, his eyes wandered back to the window. He stared outside, his face inexpressive. Morgan took a breath, about to repeat what Prentiss had said, when the injured man finally responded. "There's not much to tell, really," he said quietly.

"Any detail would help," Morgan said, taking a seat next to the bed. "My partner and I plan to take you back to the moment when you ran into this man, and hopefully, you'll remember something that could be relevant." He hoped that the man would accept. So far, Mr. Miller was the best lead they had, and if he could ID the killer, they'd be finished and able to head back to Quantico in just a short while.

Mr. Miller turned back to look at the agents, this time with slightly brighter eyes. "If I can help I'll try," he whispered, adjusting himself slightly to be able to look at Morgan and Prentiss a little easier. He winced and his breath became a bit more ragged, but it soon steadied out and he relaxed once more.

"Ok, then. Close your eyes," Morgan began the routine procedure. "Remember where you were last night when you ran into this man. Remember where you were, what you felt. What do you smell? Do you hear anything?" The two agents had barely received any information on Mr. Miller, and they didn't know what had happened to him as he'd been unable to talk to anybody since arriving at the hospital. It was only out of sheer luck that he'd been connected to the other murders.

Mr. Miller followed the instructions, and he closed his eyes. As he remembered, he began to talk. "I'm at the Blue Lagoon bar. There are a bunch of people around me. The air is smoky, and I keep coughing. I'm allergic to cigarette smoke." He frowned as he continued thinking. "I left the bar, it was just after ten."

Prentiss quickly asked, "Do you notice anybody strange around you? Anybody who is following you?" Morgan turned back to Mr. Miller, evaluating his reactions carefully.

"No, there's nobody following me," the injured man continued. "But there is a guy sitting near the door who keeps glancing at me as I leave. He's blond, like me, and he looks like he just rolled out of bed, in sweatpants and a shirt." Morgan and Prentiss glanced at each other briefly before turning back to Mr. Miller. "I'm getting up and leaving. I open the back door and step outside. Th-there is a noise, like a door slamming, a-and footsteps." Mr. Miller was beginning to get more agitated as he spoke. "He just turned up in front of me, out of the blue. He's wearing a blue baseball cap, and I can't see his face, but he has a gun, a-and it's pointing at me, and, OH MY GOD! I'VE BEEN SHOT!" The man suddenly began to thrash in the bed, and Morgan glanced at the heart monitor, which was now beating erratically. "Why did this happen to me?!" the man shrieked.

"Mr. Miller, André!" Prentiss exclaimed. "Calm down! It's just a memory, it already happened!" Her words did nothing to assuage the hysterical man on the bed, and he continued screaming as a flow of doctors ran into the room and injected him with some sort of tranquilizer.

One of the medical people in the room was easily recognizable as Nurse Grobe, and he shook his head at the two agents. "I told you, he's still in shock," he mentioned to them, before turning back to the man who was now quietly sobbing on the bed. He checked the man's vitals quickly before whispering to the agents, "Also, he's been going through a rough time, and this just hit him at the worst possible moment, you know? He'll recover soon."

Prentiss nodded understandingly before she and Morgan stepped out of the room. It was obvious that the victim would be unable to help them much more, especially as he'd just received more drugs to calm him down. "Well, that wasn't particularly helpful," Prentiss said. "We didn't find out much more than we could have found out ourselves."

"But the blond man he mentioned could be somehow relevant," Morgan said, thinking. "If he seemed out of place, maybe he doesn't belong there, and if we visit the bar again, someone might recognize him and give us a better description. It's worth a try, anyway." Prentiss nodded, realizing that what her partner was saying was true. "Either way, we now know that he took this shot outside of this particular bar, and he might have left some evidence behind, if not at the dumping spot."

The agents stopped outside the elevator, pressing the DOWN button. A nurse passed them by, pushing an old man whose teeth were missing in a wheelchair. As the nurse walked by, the man grabbed at Prentiss's hand with a grip that seemed strangely powerful, considering his age. The nurse stopped, slightly annoyed. The ancient man in the chair ignored her and said to Prentiss, big watering eyes turned up to her face, "Will you marry me, gorgeous?"

Prentiss pulled her hand back, her face plainly depicting shock. The nurse sighed, and said, "Ignore Harold. He's a little gone." Without saying anything else, she continued walking away, pushing the man who kept sending declarations of love towards the blushing dark-haired woman standing next to Morgan.

Morgan usually would have responded to that with amusement or laughter, but he was remembering the fortune-teller's words to Prentiss. _'She said I would receive a marriage proposal,' Prentiss had said, 'As if! I'm not even dating anybody at the moment!'_ The sudden memory gave him reason to pause. His suspicions were beginning to terrify him. Out of the three fortunes the woman had foretold, two of them had come true, which could mean only one thing. His fortune was next.

* * *

(A/N) Bam bam BAAAAAAAM! Two of the fortunes have come true! Garcia has received her awesome surprise, and Prentiss has received her proposal (not a real proposal, but it works). Anyway, it sounds like the fortune teller was right, which begs the question: who is Morgan's fortune talking about? It's a good question, I suppose. What do you guys think? I also wanted to apologize for not having posted last week. I was out of the country and had no internet connection. I was also dying of food poisoning, so that was pretty upsetting.

Anyway, thank you guys so much for all your wonderful comments. Thanks to those who put this story on their Faves or Alerts, and special thanks to my reviewers: jenny crum, and dannyanne. You guys are seriously awesome! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you next week with the next one. Review if you can, and make the little box down there and me super extra happy! See ya!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Hello, Sarah," Morgan murmured into his phone. As soon as he and Prentiss had made their way to the bottom floor of the hospital, he'd managed to convince the dark-haired woman that she should go talk to Nurse Grobe, who'd been so helpful before, and inquire more information about poor Mr. Miller. Prentiss had at first refused, but when Morgan suggested she get the bullet that the surgeons had extracted to prove that he was, in fact, shot by the same man they were after, Prentiss couldn't argue with that logic. She'd gone, blushing slightly, over to the desk in the middle of the room, manned by a whole fleet of nurses, a couple of whom were eyeing her interestedly.

Prentiss had thought that Morgan would take the chance to have a laugh at her expense, trying to get her to cozy up to the rather handsome Nurse Grobe. She didn't know that as soon as she'd turned the corner, Morgan had pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and dialed his sister's number. "Derek!" Sarah had said, sounding surprised. It wasn't common for her brother to call, especially not at that time. He usually did that later at night, after getting back from work. Sometimes, after a grueling case, it was nice to talk to family. "How's it going? You doing ok at work?" Even on the phone, Morgan could tell that his sister was slightly worried at the fact that he'd called her out of the blue.

"Yeah, it's all fine, Sarah. I just needed to talk to you about something." Morgan's voice was hushed and hurried as she spoke. He didn't want Prentiss to return and notice him being worried about some silly thing a fortune-teller had told him. He was embarrassed at even thinking of believing the woman's words, especially as she was so obviously a fraud and his logical mind completely refused the fact that she could see the future. Still, there had been two occasions where fortunes had come true in the past day alone. If it continued at this rhythm, Morgan didn't want to know what would happen next.

"What's up?" his sister paused and asked. There was some sort of tinny music from the other end of the line, and Morgan imagined his sister standing in the middle of a crowded supermarket, probably pushing the cart with one hand, her phone pressed to her ear by her shoulder, holding a can of peanuts in the other hand while she inspected the label. It was a wonder that she didn't sound very distracted.

"I just wanted to know, how're you and mama doing?" Morgan inquired, struggling not to let worry into his voice. He had to work at that almost every day, as he interrogated people for his job. Still, it seemed much harder when he was talking to his own family, people who had known him all his life. It also seemed to cut much deeper than just dealing with some sort of stranger. If the fortune teller was right, would that mean that Morgan would lose somebody in his own family?

"We're doing fine. Mama's thinking about hiring somebody to fix the roof. Remember that leak in the kitchen? It's starting to get annoying." There was a pause, as Sarah realized what her brother was asking her, and as she heard the unspoken worry in his voice, despite his trying to conceal it. "Why? Derek, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing's wrong," the young man replied, much too quickly to be actually believed. He could practically hear his sister's mind filling with questions, but he didn't allow her to ask them as he asked yet another question. "And how's Desiree?" He bit his lip as he waited for the answer.

Sarah sighed, realizing that her brother was not going to be forthcoming in his explanations. "She's fine too. She's really healthy and everything." Sometimes, Sarah knew, Derek just needed reassurance that his family was still there. He needed to know that, after all the horrors he had to live through every day of his life, there would be something waiting for him, three wonderful women who would hug him and complain that he was either too skinny or too tired, that he should relax more. That was what family did, after all.

Morgan let a relieved smile pass over his lips, and his handsome face radiated some kind of peace. At that moment, he noticed Prentiss returning, a grin on her face, and a small plastic box in her hand. Instantly, Morgan turned back to his phone conversation. "I'll call you later, ok? Bye," he said quickly, not allowing his sister to answer as he tucked his phone away, not giving Prentiss a chance to notice that he'd been distracted from the case.

"Did you get the bullet?" he asked the dark-haired woman. His question was rather useless as she was holding the box in her hand and had a triumphant look on her face, which didn't seem to be just from a job well done.

"Yes, I did get the bullet. And before you ask, Nurse Grobe thought I looked very nice, but unfortunately, he is not available." Prentiss grinned at Morgan, convinced that he would let the subject of the cute nurse drop with that revelation. She turned and began heading for the exit. She didn't notice the way that Morgan's phone buzzed in his pocket with a new message, or the way that the man felt for it worriedly. She was just eager to get back to the car and drive back. Morgan was only too glad to follow.

-)-(-

The drive to the Police Station was uneventful. Prentiss dozed, her head against the window, still reacting to the early start they'd gotten that morning. Morgan drove with a concentration that would have astounded even the harshest Driver's License tester. He was doing his very best to keep his mind from wandering to dark subjects by focusing on the situation at hand. But, he still couldn't stop a little niggling doubt from eating away at his innermost thoughts. If it wasn't his family who he was going to lose, who could it be? Would it be one of his teammates? Could it be that this case was more dangerous than he'd previously thought?

Still struggling to keep those questions from making their way into the front of his mind, Morgan pulled up in front of the Police Station, the sudden stop awakening Prentiss from the fitful sleep she'd fallen into. Pretending that she had been awake the whole time, she stepped outside, closely followed by Morgan. They hurried into the station, ignoring the people who were walking by, and went towards the office where they could see JJ setting some papers aside for her coworkers to look over later.

"Hey, JJ," Morgan said, noticing how empty the place looked. "Where is everybody else?" It was uncommon to find the office where they took over devoid of people. Usually, the whole team was in there, bustling and testing theories against each other, trying to find something that everybody agreed on. At the moment, though, the seats around the large table were empty, except for the one the blond woman was occupying.

"Hotch and Rossi are still looking at the crime scenes, and Spence ran across the street to grab some coffee. Apparently, it's impossible for him to work unless he has a lot of caffeine and about twenty packets of sugar in his veins." JJ rolled her eyes fondly as she spoke of the Boy Genius. Despite his being the youngest member of the team, he was still one of the most valuable. The unimaginable stores of information locked in his head, along with a particular sense he had for most cases, made him an important member of the team.

Prentiss nodded as she caught the end of JJ's explanation. "Well, if they come back before I do, tell them that I went to see the coroner. I want to give him this," she held up the little plastic box triumphantly. "It's the bullet they found in the victim in the hospital. I want to make sure it comes from the same gun." And with that, Prentiss stepped outside, leaving Morgan and JJ in the room.

Morgan yawned and stretched slightly. He was used to getting up early in the mornings, but the last week had been harrowing, even for them. The past few nights had been difficult, and although Morgan had attempted to catch up on his sleep on the flight over to Cincinnati, the nightmare had effectively destroyed that idea. JJ watched him knowingly. When his eyes opened once more, Morgan caught a glimpse of JJ's face and smiled. "Last week was tough," he said, by way of explanation. He rubbed at his head. "I think I'm gonna find Reid before he leaves the coffee shop and get him to buy me a triple expresso or something."

"While you're at it, remind him to get me my Latté," JJ said, turning back to the papers on the table, tucking a stray blond strand behind her ear. She was smiling as she did so, imagining Reid's annoyed expression as Morgan reminded him of her own order. He would insist that he had an eidetic memory and would be able to store that and more information in his brain, before Morgan teased him and made him stand back in line. Despite his being a genius, Reid could be pretty predictable.

Morgan chuckled slightly as he began to head outside once more. "Will do," he replied, hurrying to the exit. He ducked an officer who was holding some large boxes of paperwork, and maneuvered his way around a couple of people who'd been arrested and were apparently intent on tripping up anybody who wasn't looking at their feet. Shaking his head at the drunken antics of the young adults, Morgan finally stepped into the Sun. The sky was pretty clear that day, but a lingering chill hung in the air. Morgan shivered as he waited for traffic to die down so he could step across the street. Before he could do so, he noticed the door in the building opposite open. Reid stepped out, holding two paper cups carefully in his hands, his messenger bag slamming against the back of his thighs with every step he took. He seemed to be in his own little world.

The traffic was quiet, and the tall young man stepped into the street. Morgan waited for him, thinking that he'd take JJ's drink inside for her, and insist that Reid go back to the shop and get him a coffee. Reid would refuse, at first, but then he'd give in and save Morgan the trouble of going all the way across the street for the much-needed caffeine.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a screeching sound that came from around the corner. Morgan glanced at his side, noticing a car that was driving way too quickly. He cursed at the foolishness of young people, not realizing where the car was headed. When he did, he froze.

It seemed as if everything had suddenly slowed down. The car was driving, blurring because of how quickly it was going. Its direction was laid out in front of Morgan, almost as if an illuminated sign had been set on the street mapping out the car's future progress. In the middle of the lights stood Reid, turning slowly, the coffee that had been so carefully held now slopping over the rim and only the previously clean sleeves. Reid couldn't get out of the way quickly enough. He was in shock, and so was Morgan.

"Reid!" Morgan heard his voice yell, breaking from the force with which he formed the single word. "Reid!"

The genius, for all of his knowledge, had not seen this coming. His brain could have immediately calculated the speed at which the car would hit him, the way his body would crack, first against the hood, then against the windshield, and finally onto the ground, broken beyond comprehension. The two cups slipped from the skinny hands as they were raised to shield his face. He knew that the impact would be so brutal that having his hands there would be completely useless, but he had to try. The car was impossibly near.

At that moment, a force plowed into him, but not from the direction he'd expected. Morgan, who'd finally reacted, had run across the street and thrown himself against his friend, forcing him out of the car's path. It was very close. The car grazed the edge of Morgan's jacket as it went by, and Reid caught the eye of the man behind the wheel. His eyes were slightly crazed, but his mouth was open and he seemed excited. Then, he hit the floor, the weight of a heavier person on top of him.

Chaos erupted from the police station behind them, but Morgan could only focus on a single thing. That car had been about to hit Reid, one of his best friends. If it hadn't been for him, the genius would have been merely a smear on the pavement, another bright young mind lost to a road accident. The fortune teller had been speaking the truth, and Morgan had the proof. He'd expected that he'd lose somebody in his family, though, not in his team. However, he'd been proved wrong. The fortune-teller, when speaking about him losing somebody, had been referring to Reid. Reid was in danger.

* * *

(A/N) *more dramatic music* Yes! It is Reid whom Morgan thinks is going to die! And Reid nearly got hit by a car, poor guy. Everything does seem to happen to him. But, at least Morgan knows now. Does that mean he's going to be able to save Reid from every danger that is presented to him? Is it even possible to save someone from death when it has been predicted? All the other predictions have come true, so can Morgan stop this one?

Anyway, thanks to all those people who put this on their Alerts and Faves! I seriously did not expect such a big reaction to this story! Super awesome special thanks to all my wonderfully beautiful reviewers: iluvtorun, TheMysteriousGeek2345, 20000 WPM, jenny crum, dannyanne, Black Tulip, and . You guys are truly awesome!

And if you want to join the ranks of the Truly Awesome, all you have to do is review in the little box below! See you next week with the next chapter, and I hope you enjoyed this!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Morgan! Morgan!" A woman's voice was screaming close by. "Morgan!" Agent Derek Morgan finally realized that he was still in the middle of the street, lying on top of Reid, in danger of being hit by yet another car. Quickly, the dark-skinned man stood up, pulling the skinnier agent into a standing position, before forcing him to run across the street and onto the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop. Only then did Morgan allow himself to look at the younger man.

"You ok, Reid?" he asked worriedly, not listening to the quick footfalls behind him. Prentiss and JJ had surely seen the accident and were now running to join them. Morgan paid them no mind, however. He was still caught up in the fact that he nearly lost one of his best friends to a speeding car.

Reid nodded carefully, and then winced. His white hand raised and brushed against the back of his head. When it withdrew, there was a crimson liquid on his fingers. Morgan paled. That had probably happened when he'd thrown Reid to the ground. The genius hadn't been hit by a car, but he had been hit by a fully-grown man and pushed down to the street. It had had to leave a mark, especially when the would-be-rescuer was someone of Morgan's strength.

Reid sighed, however, seemingly not noticing how nervous his friend was. "Don't worry," he said. "It doesn't hurt that bad. Head wounds just naturally bleed a lot, but I don't seem to be suffering any of the symptoms for a concussion. No dizziness, blurry or obscured vision, and I seem to be able to move all of my extremities correctly."

At that moment, JJ and Prentiss arrived. Both young women began asking questions, much like Morgan had thought they would. "What happened? What was that? Reid, are you ok? Morgan?" Finally, JJ's eyes landed on the blood that was on Reid's hand, and her eyes widened. "Oh God. I'll call an ambulance."

"Don't bother, it's just superficial," Reid insisted. It was to no avail, as JJ had already stepped away with her phone in hand. Morgan knew that the kid hated when people made a big deal out of him, and the genius was prone to downplaying anything that was wrong in his life, to such an extent that it was almost impossible to get any sort of negative personal information out of him. At this moment, though, Morgan couldn't argue with JJ. He completely agreed with her, Reid had to go to the hospital.

Morgan had another reason for trying to get the young man to the hospital, though. The fortune-teller's words kept sounding in his head, telling him of the death there would be. After what he'd seen, Morgan was certain that Reid was destiny's victim. Morgan had saved him this time, but who was to say that there wouldn't be another homicidal car right around the corner? What about the unsub they were tracking down? Morgan wanted Reid kept out of the way, and what safer place could there be than a hospital?

Prentiss also seemed to be eyeing Reid worriedly, but as the genius rolled his eyes, she cracked a smile. "Reid, you know we're not moving until we know you're ok."

The young man huffed, frustrated, but managed to smile back. "This is ridiculous, though. I'm fine! Do you know how much money it costs a hospital to send an ambulance even a mile away? The cost of the equipment, fuel, and paramedics alone can reach almost to-"

"Well, his brain is certainly not damaged," Prentiss interrupted, grinning at Morgan. Morgan only managed a crooked smile, still not taking his eyes off of Reid. Sure, the genius seemed fine then, but what if he'd hit his head too hard against the ground? What if he suddenly collapsed and seized, like the time that he'd gotten kidnapped by Tobias Hankel? What if this time he didn't come back?

It was definitely a good thing that JJ was calling the hospital, if only for Morgan's peace of mind.

Eventually, sirens wailed through the busy streets, and an ambulance skidded to a stop in the street. Several paramedics stepped out, heading towards the group that was still sitting on the sidewalk with a gurney in hand. Reid instantly made an effort to stand up. "God no. I'm not getting on a gurney and getting that stupid thing strapped to my neck. I can still walk." Morgan helped the genius the rest of the way up and walked him over to the doctors, some of whom were looking annoyed that their patient wasn't a particularly serious or exciting case.

Morgan hovered nearby as the paramedics checked the kid over. Both Prentiss and JJ were intent on finding out who had nearly run over their coworker, talking to the other police. Morgan pretended to be interested, but he was more focused on Reid's health.

Another car drove to a stop in front of the police station. This time, it was Hotch and Rossi who stepped out. As soon as they saw the ambulance and the group of people, they made their way across the street.

"What happened?" Hotch asked in his usual authoritative voice.

"Just an accident," Reid's voice broke in before anybody else could reply. "Nobody's hurt. Doctor Harrison just checked me over and said there's nothing wrong, right Doctor?"

Doctor Harrison, who was apparently one of the paramedics who'd been in the ambulance, shrugged reluctantly. "Dr. Reid seems to be exhibiting no signs of a concussion, but I would suggest he take it easy for the next few days. Bumps on the head tend to be risky, and sometimes you can't tell what damage has been done until there have been further tests. Dr. Reid has refused them, though, and I see no reason to argue with him on that." Harrison pursed his lips. He was apparently unused to dealing with stubborn patients who knew as much as the doctors about injuries. "If you feel any sort of pain, though, do go to the hospital and get checked out. Like I said, bumps on the head can be quite dangerous."

Reid merely nodded and turned back to the team. "See? I'm fine. Now, let's get back to the case." He began to walk across the street, checking both sides carefully before planting a foot on the asphalt.

Morgan followed him. "I guess this means you don't want coffee anymore?" he joked.

Reid's face fell. "I'd forgotten about that! I never got JJ her coffee!"

Morgan chuckled as they arrived to the other side of the street. "You know what, kid? I don't think she cares right now, but if it means that much to you, I'll go get it for her."

Reid smiled. "Mocha latté for her, light on the milk, but a dash of whipped cream on top. And-" Morgan began to walk away, pretending not to notice the pout on the genius's face. Finally, Morgan turned around and actually laughed. "Yes, Reid, I'll get you your coffee too. Straight black, and about twenty packets of sugar, right?" Reid nodded, grinning, and Morgan continued on his way. As soon as he was out of sight of the genius, his face turned back to worried. He'd only offered to do this to make sure that Reid didn't step out of the police precinct again. Since the young man had refused to go to the hospital, Morgan would just have to make sure the kid stayed inside the building. With so many cops inside, how unsafe could it possibly be?

Refusing to let himself think about the possibilities, Morgan hurried across the street, reciting both of the coffee orders over and over in his head. Worry still niggled at him though. He was so preoccupied that he forgot to get a coffee for himself, and it was only when he returned to the precinct that he remembered. It was just another risk then, though, and Morgan decided to forego the coffee and instead stick around Reid. With Morgan around, what could possibly happen to the young man?

-)-(-

"What took you guys so long? I've been calling you for at least ten minutes!" Garcia's angry voice was on speaker in the room the BAU was using to create the killer's profile. "Seriously! After all the digging you had me do, you'd think you'd be a little more thoughtful and answer my calls when I make them!"

"Sorry, Garcia," Hotch could hardly keep the smile off of his face as he listened to the angry techie. "There was a bit of an accident outside and we got distracted."

"An accident?" The woman's voice abruptly changed tones. "Oh, don't you dare tell me that you already caught the unsub, not when I went to all this trouble to dig through random stuff for you!"

"Not quite," Rossi replied. "Hotch meant there was a car accident outside that nearly took out our resident genius." Reid blushed to hear the older man refer to him.

"Oh my gosh! Is Reid ok?" Once more, Garcia's voice had changed dramatically. From angry, to annoyed, and now to worried. Morgan would have laughed to hear all the mood swings his baby girl was going through if he wasn't worried about Reid himself. To hear Garcia speak with such anxiety only brought out the worry in his own mind.

"I'm fine," Reid answered, brushing it off. "Really. We have a doctor's statement and everything."

"A real doctor, this time, I hope," Garcia's voice commented shrewdly. Neither she nor the rest of the team had forgotten the time Reid had insisted that he'd been cleared for travel after being shot in the knee, but had actually made the report himself, claiming that since he was a doctor, it technically wasn't a lie. Morgan had to admit, the young man could be quite clever at times.

"Yes, a real doctor. I checked," JJ stated, a grin on her face. "I called the ambulance myself and everything." Reid blushed even more as the women spoke. He obviously wished that everyone would just forget that time.

"But enough about Reid. What do you have for us, Garcia?" Rossi asked, glancing at the board and searching for a connection that would make everything clear for the team of FBI agents. The youngest agent looked grateful as the attention was deflected away from him and back to the matter at hand.

"Well, Emily sent me information about the bullets that had been used. When I put those into the system, I found only a small number of shops sold the guns that could actually shoot that kind of bullets," the technical analyst said efficiently. There was the sound of typing heard in the background. "And only few of those guns have been sold in the past few months."

"Garcia, check the shops that are in a five mile radius of the first shooting. If it was indeed the first kill our unsub made, it would make sense that he didn't venture far out of his comfort zone. We did establish that he hadn't planned the murder, after all," Reid added. He stood up, glaring down at Morgan who'd moved in case the genius wobbled, and walked over to the board, red marker in hand. More typing was heard. "How many shops are there, Garcia?"

"Sugar, you've cut the number down to one," Garcia replied in a bubbly fashion. "And this store only sold about ten of those guns in the past year."

"Narrow it down to those sold from the week before the first murder leading up to the actual day," Hotch added. He too had stood up and was looking at the board with Reid.

"Two guns sold," the analyst said with a flourish. "One of them to a man named John Bennett, and the other to an Abel Lackner."

"What can you find of them, baby girl?" Morgan interjected.

"Looks like John Bennett is a bachelor in his forties. Lives alone, has a steady job selling computers, and apparently has a couple of dogs, judging from the amount of bills for dog food. I mean, it's impressive just how much those animals can eat!"

"And the other man, Garcia?" Prentiss asked.

There was a silence on the other end as Garcia typed some more. "From what I can find, Abel Lackner is in his late thirties. He has a wife and a couple of children, but he doesn't seem to be getting along well with them."

"What makes you say that?" Morgan inquired.

"Well, there are a ton of payments made to a divorce attorney, and it looks like he's been paying for a hotel room for the past couple of weeks."

"That has to be the stressor," Prentiss said. "The men who have been targeted have all been similar in some way. They were all married, and the two later victims had kids. When Abel saw them having his life, he got angry that he couldn't have it too, and he killed them."

Everyone seemed to agree. "Garcia, what is his address?" Hotch demanded.

"Sending it to your phones right now."

Reid looked down at his phone before making a small mark on the map on the board. Just a short way away was the site of the first murder. "Looks like we found our unsub," he commented quietly.

"You work miracles, Baby Girl," Morgan said to their technical analyst.

"Always do! Over and out." The line was abruptly ended, and the rest of the team looked at each other before heading out of the room. They had a killer to catch.

* * *

(A/N) Hey guys! Sorry it took so long to post this chapter. Last week was rather insane. This one isn't much better, but I couldn't not post a chapter this week, especially when I'd made you wait so long already! So, now Morgan believes that Reid is the person whom the fortune teller was referring to. Does that mean he's really going to die?

Thanks a bunch to everyone who added this to their Alerts and/or Faves. You guys are fantastic! But, you know who are the most fantastically awesome people ever? My reviewers: 20000 WPM, TheMysteriousGeek2345, , Black Tulip, and jenny crum. And now, I'm running late. Don't forget to review!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Morgan glanced over at Reid for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. He just had to keep reassuring himself that the genius was still there, alive and well, sitting in the car with him. After having nearly lost one of his best friends, he couldn't help but be worried, especially as the words of the fortune-teller kept sounding over and over in his head. Morgan just couldn't stand losing anybody, and he most certainly wasn't going to let the woman's words come true. He would stop Reid's death, over and over, if he had to. He would not let the genius die.

Reid sighed, noticing Morgan's eyes on him once more. He shifted to look out of the window, apparently trying to ignore the relentless stare from the dark-skinned man. He probably knew that Morgan was worried about him, but, as usual, the attention was unnerving and just plain annoying.

As Morgan looked away only to glance back a mere few seconds after, Reid finally huffed. "I'm fine, Morgan. Really, I am," he declared. He went back to looking out the window. "It was just a stupid accident. Nothing happened to me."

Morgan grimaced as he turned back to look at the road. He and Reid were alone in the car, heading straight to Abel Lackner's house. The rest of the team had taken other vehicles to the scene. Morgan had insisted on riding with Reid for the genius's own protection. Of course, he hadn't mentioned his worry, though. Instead, he'd stated that it would probably be best to ride with the genius since Reid would most likely be hyper from the coffee and annoy anybody else who would ride with him. Everyone except for the youngest team member noticed that Morgan just wanted to keep an eye on the kid, especially after what had happened. Reid, despite being a genius, was oblivious to it, but realized it a while after being on the road.

The fact that Morgan was worried was especially clear as the dark-skinned man drove with a caution that would have impressed driver license testers everywhere. He carefully kept eyes on his mirrors and on the road in front of him, drove quite a bit under the speed limit, and exercised a lot of caution before making decisions. That was completely different to his usual driving. At other times, when Morgan was given the wheel and they were on the warpath, going to seek out their unsub, he would be driving at a relentless speed, barely legal even with the siren on. He would be determined to get there as fast as possible. Now, he only seemed to be eager to arrive there in one piece. It was quite unlike Morgan in every way.

"I know you're fine kid. The doctor said it and everything," Morgan said, making sure to keep his eyes away from his friend. He didn't want to make Reid think that anything was wrong. In fact, nobody was supposed to know how worried he was, and yet it seemed that everybody already knew. Even Reid, who usually had a hard time grasping the world around him, had caught on to that fact.

"Then why do you keep looking at me as if I'm going to drop dead?" Reid asked. Morgan froze, his hands clenching on the steering wheel. If there was an image he was trying to keep out of his head, it was that one… the one of Reid lying still, dreadfully still, on the ground. Morgan wouldn't be able to bear having his friend, his best friend, die. It would just be too much.

"I'm not looking at you like that," Morgan finally replied. The silence hadn't been lost on the genius, though. "I'm just wondering how bad the buzz crash is going to hit you after that nasty bump on the head." He was trying to amend it, brush off the fact that he was so worried. It probably wasn't working, though. Reid wasn't dumb, after all. Far from it.

Reid seemingly gave up on trying to speak to Morgan and instead gazed out the window at the streets that were slowly going by. He noticed how the light in front began to turn yellow, and the car slowed and stopped. He turned incredulous eyes on Morgan, who seemed to think that nothing was strange. Morgan noticed Reid's eyes on him. "What?" he asked. Reid shook his head and winced slightly, having forgotten about the bump. He then leaned his forehead on the cool glass and waited for the recently red light to turn green. If Morgan continued at this pace, they would arrive at the scene precisely thirteen minutes after the rest of the team. This was starting to get vaguely ridiculous.

-)-(-

Morgan finally pulled up in front of the Lackner house. He parked the car carefully before ducking out of it. He went around the car and began to head towards Hotch. He was determined not to seem worried about Reid, but failed miserably as the genius stumbled with his long legs. "Reid! You alright?" he asked as he crouched down next to the kid. "Is it your head?"

"No. Just a rock." Reid looked at Morgan. Really, even after the accident, this was a bit too much. Why was Morgan acting like a mother hen, suddenly? It didn't make any sense!

"Ok," Morgan said, pulling the lanky youth up before going to join the rest of the team as they stood outside the house.

"What took you so long?" Prentiss asked, already strapped into her bullet-proof vest. She had an annoyed look on her face.

Reid shrugged and looked pointedly at Morgan, who had ignored the exchange and was pulling on his own vest instead. "What's the plan?" the dark-skinned man asked, turning to Hotch. Prentiss seemed slightly affronted to be ignored, but as their Unit Chief began to speak, she listened carefully.

"Rossi, Prentiss, cover the house. Morgan, you go with JJ in through the back. Reid, you're with me. We're going in the front," Hotch said in his usual businesslike tone. He pulled his gun out and prepared to launch the attack, but Morgan stuck an arm out in front of him.

"Why don't we send Reid in through the back with me? Might be better for him, with his head, and, you know," Morgan muttered quietly, not wanting anybody else to hear.

Hotch looked at the agent carefully, reading him with his serious eyes. It was difficult to hide things from a bunch of profilers, even when you worked from them, and to keep something from Hotch, especially with his experience, was extremely difficult. At the moment, Hotch could tell that Morgan was worried about Reid, and just wanted to keep him in his line of sight. He didn't see anything wrong with that, although he would have to have a talk with the other profiler sometime in the future. Hotch nodded, and then Morgan cracked a smile.

"Change of plans," Hotch intoned. "Reid, you're going in the back with Morgan. JJ, come with me." Hotch nodded and gave the signal. The profilers left cover and began to move in, their guns pointed at the house. They had no idea what they would find in there.

-)-(-

Morgan indicated that Reid should follow him, and the genius did so quietly. They were both strapped into their bullet-proof vests, their guns held at the ready. They had snuck up to the back of the house and were now preparing to enter the building. Seeing as their unsub had a gun, they wanted to get him off his guard, unprepared to use the weapon on anybody. The man had already proven to be violent, and they wanted to catch him without any casualties. That meant they had to be quiet and discreet.

Morgan cursed quietly as he realized the door was locked from the inside. So much for discretion. He took a few steps back, and then kicked in the door. Reid followed him inside, well aware that they'd just announced their presence in a rather spectacular fashion.

They were in some kind of kitchen, and after checking around and making sure that it was empty, both of the profilers continued moving through the house. A door off the kitchen led to the laundry room, but it was empty as well. So, instead, the agents headed down the hall. They could hear the sounds of the rest of the team breaking in through the front as they moved. Reid came upon some stairs, and he indicated them to Morgan, who nodded. They should finish this quickly, since Lackner had already realized that he'd been caught.

Both the men climbed up the stairs, being careful when they arrived to the second floor that the shooter wasn't ready to kill the first man who stepped away from the stairs. Lackner was nowhere to be seen. Morgan spotted a half-open door, and, for a minute, he forgot his worry. He was so caught up in the chase that he completely forgot to be anxious for his friend. On the one hand, it was good since he was better at his job that way. But, on the other, Morgan would have kicked himself if he'd realized just what had happened. He was no longer keeping that careful, special eye on Reid.

And that eye was well-needed as he stepped in through the open doorway only to see an empty room. As he turned back, he realized that Reid was no longer behind him. Morgan prepared to head back outside into the hallway, when he heard the genius's voice.

"Abel, you don't want to do this," it was saying, and Morgan felt goosebumps rise up on his skin. "You've already murdered three men. Do you really want to add a fourth?" Reid's voice continued, and Morgan got close to the door which he'd left open and peered outside.

What he saw made him freeze in terror. Abel Lackner, who looked scarily similar to the men who'd been shot, was now holding a very large gun, pointed directly at Spencer Reid's head. Morgan assumed that he'd been hiding in one of the rooms, and as soon as Morgan had stepped into the empty space, he'd gotten out and grabbed the weaker of the agents. Now, he was holding a gun to the genius, and Morgan wasn't sure if he could do anything about it.

"Abel, you should know that I am a federal agent. Your house is surrounded. You won't get away with this," Reid continued saying. Lackner still hadn't said anything yet, and Morgan could tell the genius was starting to get frightened.

Morgan's determination got the best of him, and he stepped outside and into the hall, right in front of Abel Lackner and Reid. The youth's eyes widened to see Morgan in front of him, but Lackner only seemed to steel himself. Morgan cursed quietly. He could already tell that he'd misjudged the killer.

"Lackner, let him go," he demanded quietly, pointing his own gun at the man. "If you shoot him, you're only going to add to your sentence."

Lackner didn't reply, but instead jammed the barrel of his gun against Reid's temple. Morgan could see that the genius had already dropped his weapon to the ground, probably as soon as Lackner had appeared and grabbed him. Finally, he spoke. "Drop the gun, or I'll kill him."

"Ok, ok," Morgan said, lowering his gun carefully. He made certain not to make any sudden movements. He couldn't risk Reid getting shot by accident, if Lackner believed that Morgan was about to attack. He had to try and talk the guy down, but by the way he was acting, he could tell it would probably be very difficult.

"Look, I'm unarmed now. Let Agent Reid go," he said, raising both of his hands, showing that they were empty.

Lackner didn't seem to care, and instead retreated a step. "Good. Now stay there while I leave." Reid stumbled as he was forced to walk backwards.

Morgan didn't let his fear show on his face. "You can't get away, Lackner. There are agents surrounding this building. You'll die before you even get to the street."

"I can try, can't I?" Lackner said, a smile on his face. "Although, now that you put it that way," he pushed his gun harshly against the genius's face, "I guess it's not worth it to bring this guy along. He'll probably only slow me down."

Morgan noticed the way Lackner's finger tensed on the trigger only a second before everything happened. Reid had noticed what was going on, and he threw himself backwards onto his captor. Lackner, who had been planning on escape, had been standing dangerously near to the stairs. So, as Reid pushed him back, both the men were launched down the steps. A loud shot was heard, and Morgan ducked instinctively before looking over to where the two men had landed. There was a large stain of blood around them, and they both weren't moving. There was no doubt about it, the shot had hit one of them.

"Reid!" Morgan screamed. The prophecy couldn't have come true. It just couldn't have. Morgan wouldn't be able to bear it. "Reid!"

* * *

(A/N) Hey guys, just wanted to apologize that it's taken soooooo loooong to post this update to my story. You all probably hate me by now, and I want to apologize for that. I will try to hurry up with the other chapters, though, I promise. Sorry!

As usual, thanks to everyone who Faved/Alerted, and super special thanks to my reviewers: jenny crum, 20000 WPM, TheMysteriousGeek2345. You guys are the best, and sorry about the wait!

See you next week (hopefully!) and sorry about the cliffie ;) I'm evil like that.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Morgan picked up his gun and began to run down the stairs heedlessly, his weapon pointed at the two men lying on the floor before him. If that sonuvabitch had killed Reid, he was not leaving this house alive, not if Morgan had anything to do about it.

"Reid!" he called again, his voice raspy from the previous screams. Footsteps were sounding now, all approaching the stairs. Obviously the other agents had heard the gunshot and were now running to see what had happened.

A groan from the bottom of the stairs made Morgan's heart jump into his throat. He noticed Reid stirring from where he had been lying, his hand pressing against his shoulder. Morgan sighed in relief as he finally arrived at the bottom floor. He looked to see what had become of Abel Lackner. The other man was lying prone on the ground, bleeding from the head. His gun was lying some ways away.

"You OK, kid?" Morgan asked, not dropping his gun from pointing at the man who had caused all this to happen. No way was he letting Abel out of his sight, even if the man seemed to be knocked out for the moment. Still, he could be pretending. Morgan knew that protocol said that he should be apprehending the unsub, but he didn't want to move until he was sure that his friend was all right and out of danger.

"According to the modern definition of 'OK', I'm going to say that, no, I am not OK. I am, though, alive." Reid sat up, his face pale in the little light inside the house. Morgan glanced sideways at him and noticed that the genius's hand was covered in blood which was steadily leaking from his shoulder. "And, considering the fact that this is the second time I've nearly died today, I'm going to say that's quite an achievement."

Morgan smiled despite himself. If Reid was being sarcastic about his situation and speaking in his usual intelligent way, he couldn't be too hurt. Although, from what he'd seen over the years, the young man had a high pain tolerance, despite his physique. Not everyone could go through what the boy had been through and make it.

"What happened?" Hotch's voice sounded loudly as he stepped into the hallway. He noticed Reid sitting on the floor and Morgan with his weapon pointed at the unconscious figure of the unsub. Seeing that his own gun didn't seem to be needed at the moment, he holstered it and knelt next to the youngest member of his team. "Are you all right?" Hotch asked Reid.

Reid managed a crooked grin. "Aside from being shot in the shoulder, yeah, I'm good."

Morgan went over the unsub, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. After nearly murdering Reid, the guy deserved much worse than prison, in Morgan's opinion. However, his opinion didn't quite matter in this case. Still, he would be sure to pull as many strings as he could to get Lackner more jail time. He had to pay for trying to hurt the boy genius.

Abel Lackner stirred slightly as Morgan grasped his wrists and forced them into the handcuffs. "Wha…?" he asked, still out of it.

"Quiet!" Morgan growled. "You are now under arrest and have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," he began reciting, his heart not really in it. Instead, he was watching Hotch supporting Reid and JJ, who'd arrived not long after, calling for an ambulance. "You have the right to representation. If you cannot afford it, a lawyer will be provided for you."

The words ceased to matter as he got Abel to his feet. The man seemed fine, other than a small cut on his forehead that trickled blood into his eye. Morgan didn't care, though. Reid was the only one who mattered at the moment. In fact, Morgan was reluctant to leave the room when the young profiler was still lying on the floor. JJ noticed this with her keen eyes, and she walked over to Morgan. "I'll take him," she said. "I'll let the paramedics know where to go." She smiled at Morgan kindly and took Abel's arm from his hands.

As she began to lead him away, Morgan clenched and unclenched his hands, glaring after the man who'd dared shoot his friend. A moan called his attention back to the room. Looking back down at Reid, Morgan noticed that Hotch had taken over applying pressure on the gunshot wound. "Come on, Reid. Stay awake," the Unit Chief was saying.

Morgan suddenly felt nauseous. He'd thought Reid was fine, but apparently, the genius was worse off than he'd first imagined. The prophecy couldn't come true. Not after all that had happened! Holstering his gun, Morgan knelt as well, staring into the genius's eyes. The brown orbs were glazed and unfocused, the rings around them made more prominent from the pallor of the boy's face. "Stay with me, kid," Morgan said to him insistently.

Reid's eyes focused for a minute on the dark-skinned profiler. He smiled weakly at Morgan. "Hey, Morgan," he said quietly. "I feel dizzy." His voice was nearly a whisper, and his eyelids were drooping slowly.

"Reid!" The boy's eyes focused on him once more. "Listen to me. You cannot pass out right now," Morgan ordered. Despite his demands, he could feel the genius slipping away. "Reid!"

Reid's eyes closed and his head fell back against Hotch's shoulder. The Unit Chief, who was still holding him up, looked worried. It was strange to see the usually serious face screwed up in worry. Morgan paid no attention to the strange look on his boss's face, though. He was focused on Reid's limp body. The younger profiler was gone.

-)-(-

Morgan blew on his fourth cup of coffee of the night. Steam rose up from the paper cup, filled with dark liquid. It was not particularly good, but it was the only one available in the sterile environment. Morgan preferred to have bad coffee to no coffee, so he made do with what he had.

He was once more in the hospital he'd visited earlier that day. This time, though, he wasn't joking with Prentiss or any of the other profilers. He was more much more serious than he'd been earlier.

As he walked over to room 310, he noticed a doctor walking by. He opened his mouth to speak to the man. Doctor Rénique noticed Morgan's actions, and he shook his head. "No, there has been no change yet," he repeated for what must have been the fortieth time in the past hour.

Morgan's mouth closed and his shoulders sagged. He nodded sadly and then stopped before room 310. Peeking in through the small window on the door, Morgan could see the figure of the youngest profiler lying immobile on the bed. He was breathing steadily, and some of the machines hooked up to him were flashing numbers. Morgan knew nothing about medicine, but he was pretty sure all those numbers were in the normal range. That did not explain, however, why the young man would not wake up.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Morgan turned to look into Prentiss's kind face. "Morgan. Pacing up and down in front of his door isn't going to make him wake up any faster. You should get some rest. Hotch and I are going to join JJ and Rossi at the hotel. You should come with us."

Morgan shook his head roughly. "Nah. I'm not leaving him. I want to be here when he comes to." He wanted to say something to the kid, anything; to apologize for not protecting him better, to tell him why he'd been acting so strangely lately.

Prentiss nodded understandingly. "Well, if you change your mind, let us know," she replied before walking away. She had known that her suggestion would be disregarded, but she'd tried anyway. She'd noticed the bond between the two men long ago. She knew that they were practically siblings. It made sense that Morgan wouldn't leave Reid's side now.

Morgan watched the retreating woman until she turned the corner. Then, he opened the door to the quiet room and walked in. A chair was pulled up close to the bed. Morgan made a beeline for it and sat down. The coffee steamed as he sipped it, the liquid scalding his tongue. He'd been waiting for a few hours now for the other profiler to wake up. Reid had arrived at the hospital with an exacerbated concussion that had caused him to pass out on the scene, and a bullet through the shoulder. The bullet hadn't damaged much, luckily, and as soon as it was pulled out, a bandage was placed over the hole. Reid would be fine in a few weeks. The concussion, though, had the doctors worried. They would be able to know more once the kid woke up, but until that happened they were pretty much in the dark.

Morgan had spent a long while walking up and down the hallways. The team had taken turns sitting next to the youngest member, and now, it was Morgan's turn once more. He was prepared for a long wait.

As he watched the young genius, his mind wandered. The prophecy the woman had proclaimed still made him nervous, but so far, Reid had survived two accidents. Could it be that she had been wrong?

At that moment, the boy's nostrils twitched, and his eyes began to open. Morgan leaned forwards, grinning. He was ecstatic to see some form of reaction in the youngest profiler. "Reid! How are you feeling?" he asked.

Reid grimaced as the lights struck his eyes. His tongue licked his lips weakly, and he grimaced. "Coffee," he groaned, feeling too groggy and sore to be more polite.

Morgan laughed, setting his cup on the bedside drawer and instead grabbing a glass of cold water which had been placed there. "I don't think you can have that for a while, kid," he said as he held the straw to Reid's lips.

The young man pouted before finally giving in to his thirst and taking a long draught of the water. Once he was satisfied, he turned away. Morgan put the glass down, and looked at Reid intently. "So, are you feeling all right?"

Reid moaned. "I feel as if I'd fallen down the stairs and gotten shot," he commented. He turned bright eyes onto Morgan. "I could be better," he amended.

"I know you don't usually like pain medication," Morgan began, "but are you sure-"

"No," Reid interrupted forcefully, beginning to sit up. "Nothing like that."

Morgan nodded. "Of course."

There was a moment of silence in the room. Both of the profilers were content to remain in their own thoughts for a minute: Morgan in a sea of relief, and Reid sorting through jumbled moments that were all scrambled up from his bump on the head.

Finally, a voice spoke. "You were worried," Reid mentioned.

Morgan shrugged. "I guess. We all were. You did get shot."

"Yeah, but you knew…" Reid blinked slowly as he considered how the other profiler had been acting lately. It didn't make sense, though. Nobody could know what was to come. "It's almost like you knew that something would happen to me. I thought it was just you being stupid about the car, but you _knew_ something would happen."

The older man shook his head. "No, of course not. Nobody can tell the future." Reid stared at him seriously, penetratingly. Morgan finally sighed in defeat. "Ok, but it's really really stupid." Reid eased down on the stare, but was still gazing at him expectantly. "You remember the psychic Garcia told you about?"

Reid frowned as he searched for the correct memory in his jumbled soup of thoughts. Then, he nodded. "Yes," he said. "What about her?"

"Well," Morgan hesitated. "She said I would lose somebody close to me. And, after what happened, I thought that was you."

Reid raised his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Morgan, outside of fiction, nobody is able to predict the future, not even self-proclaimed psychics."

"I know, but what she said to Garcia and Prentiss did happen! Garcia was surprised by Kevin, and the guy proposed to Prentiss." Morgan noticed Reid's raised eyebrow. "But that's not important. Don't you see? She said that, and next thing I know, you nearly die twice!"

"Morgan," Reid sighed, "I didn't die, though. And, it's only the belief in her that gives her prophecies power. Psychics don't really exist."

"I know, kid. But, what happened over the last few days made me doubt that." Morgan put his face in his hands. "I thought I'd lose you."

"You didn't lose me, though," Reid smiled. "Unfortunately, I'll still be here to give you statistical facts you never wanted to hear." Morgan gave a choked laugh at that comment. It seemed that the genius had caught on to the fact that his rattling off statistics could be considered annoying, but mostly amusing. "And, you won't be losing me any time soon," Reid finished.

"Promise?"

"I swear," Reid said solemnly, before grinning. "Now can I have some coffee?"

"Fat chance, kid." Morgan smiled. Everything was well.

* * *

(A/N) One more chapter and then this story is officially over! I did consider cutting it off as Reid passed out, but I could never be that mean to you guys :P Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and they finally had the talk about the psychic! Now, the question is, was she a fraud who just got lucky, or was she, despite Reid's beliefs, actually saying the truth? Thoughts? Maybe you'll find out in the next chapter!

As usual, thanks to my wonderfully gorgeous reviewers. You guys deserve lots and lots of homemade cookies after sticking around for so long. Unfortunately, I can't give you those, but I can send you lots of imaginary ones! Delivered instantly too! Thanks to: jenny crum, 20000 WPM, and TheMysteriousGeek2345. You guys are the absolute best!

Anyway, I'll probably be back next week with the very last chapter! I hope you enjoy this until then! Bye!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Morgan peeled into the driveway of his house. He'd been under the speed limit, just barely. He was so tired that he knew if he spent more time than he had to behind the wheel he would inevitably fall straight to sleep.

The case had been exhausting, even if it had ended quickly. It wasn't physically exhausting, but the mere idea that he would lose somebody close to him had been so terrifying it had mentally drained him of all the energy he possessed. Even after having been proven wrong, and after Reid had told him that there was no such thing as someone who could tell the future, Morgan was extremely tired.

It had taken the team's combined efforts to make sure the genius remained in his room for the rest of the required period of observation. The doctors had been at their wit's end with their reluctant patient. It had only been until Hotch had threatened to make Reid stay an extra week if he didn't cooperate that the young man had finally settled down, although he'd grumbled a great deal.

Morgan chuckled just thinking about it. Reid could be such a baby sometimes, but he was grateful that the young man was on the team. Reid had become an important part of the group of profilers, and his insight had been vital to many of the cases they had worked on over the years. At least now that the boy was out of the hospital he'd be easier to deal with. The doctors had kept him for observation one night, and then the team had been able to board the plane and head back to Quantico.

Morgan had been quiet on the way back, watching the rest of his team with a relieved smile. It was good to know that the fortuneteller had been wrong. He hadn't lost someone close to him, they were all still there with them. Nobody could tell the future, as Reid had told him. It was impossible.

Still thinking about that, Morgan opened his car door. A happy dog was there to greet him. Morgan laughed at Clooney's efforts to jump up and lick his face. He kneeled next to his pet and scratched his belly fondly. "Hey, boy, how are you doing?"

Clooney waved his tail and let his tongue fall out of his mouth. He barked and yipped, looking excited. Morgan wondered what had made the dog so happy. Clooney was used to Morgan leaving and arriving often, wasn't he?

Then, Morgan realized that Clooney wasn't looking at him at all. In fact, the dog was staring at a large van across the street from him. Morgan frowned. He would have usually noticed a large moving van on his street, especially when returning from a case. He must have been more distracted than he thought.

As he looked across the street, he noticed some men taking a large couch out of the neighbor's house. An old woman, Mrs. Parsons, came out right behind them. "Mind my couch, it's an antique!" she said shrilly. The old woman looked rather comical with her tiny wrinkled figure next to the large muscular men. She was actually rather nice, but very careful with her possessions. Morgan was surprised to see her moving. She'd lived in that house for years.

"Good evening, Mrs. Parsons," Morgan called politely to her, holding onto Clooney's collar as he watched the men put the couch carefully into the van. "Are you going somewhere?"

Mrs. Parsons looked at Morgan, squinted, and then rifled through the pockets of her sweater. Triumphant, she pulled out a pair of glasses. As she settled them on her nose, she recognized the profiler and brightened. "Derek!" she said, beaming almost as much as she did with her grandchildren. "This is a nice surprise! I was beginning to get worried that I wouldn't get to say goodbye to you!"

"Mrs. Parsons, you're moving?" Morgan asked her. He was still wondering why she would give up her house after having lived there almost her entire life.

Mrs. Parsons nodded and looked over at the men, who were headed back inside. "Careful with the piano!" she called at them. "It's from the 1800's!" Then she turned back to Morgan. "Yes, dear. My daughter thought it a good idea, especially since I'm getting on in years and all. She's invited me to stay in her place, in Florida."

Morgan's eyes widened. Clooney was straining at his collar, and the old woman scratched the dog behind his ears. "Ma'am, the neighborhood will miss you," he said.

"I'm sure you will," the old woman said with a smile. She pulled out an old dog treat from her pocket and fed it to the happy creature. She had two dogs herself, and always seemed to be baking some sort of special dog food. "And you will too, won't you?" Clooney just wagged his tail in reply. The old woman looked back into Morgan's face. "It's for the best, young man," she said. "I don't expect you to understand. I'm just not the woman I used to be."

Morgan nodded. Mrs. Parsons began to walk away, a smile on her face. "You take care now, you hear?" she called back. Morgan laughed and waved at her, beginning to walk into his house. As he pulled out the keys to his front door, the words of the fortuneteller drifted back into his mind. _'Derek Morgan, within the next week you will lose somebody close to you. Say your goodbyes while you still can, for they will be gone forever, you will never see them again.'_ That was it! That was who the fortune was referring to!

Mrs. Parsons was technically close to Morgan, since she lived across the street. She was moving, so it was doubtful that Morgan would ever see her again. The fortuneteller had never said anything about death, Morgan had just assumed it was so.

Shaking his head at his own overactive imagination, Morgan allowed himself a smile as he walked into his house. Clooney dashed inside and jumped onto his favorite couch. The profiler sat himself down next to the dog and scratched his back. "We're ok, boy," he said, laughing. "We're all right."

* * *

(A/N) The end! Yup, this is it! After keeping you hanging for so long, I've finally finished this story, and I hope you liked the way it turned out. I enjoy surprise endings, as you can probably tell. Anyway, yeah, that's it for this story, and I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Special thanks, as always, to my faithful and wonderful reviewers: TheMysteriousGeek2345, jenny crum, red2013, 20000WPM. You guys are the absolute best! Also, thanks to everyone who added this to their Alerts or Faves. It was thanks to all of you that I finished this story! I hope you liked it, and thanks for sticking around so long!


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